A quick quote

Over a year ago, I borrowed Hitch-22 from the library. Christopher Hitchens was an iconoclast, writer, and contrarian, and this is his autobiography.

I find reading about others’ lives fascinating, and I tried desperately to like the book. It was something I wanted to like, something I felt like I should read. I’m still less than halfway through it, but I maintain that there remains hope.

Hope renewed by the discovery of this quote:

“Beware the irrational, however seductive. Shun the ‘transcendent’ and all who invite you to subordinate or annihilate yourself. Distrust compassion; prefer dignity for yourself and others. Don’t be afraid to be thought arrogant or selfish. Picture all experts as if they were mammals. Never be a spectator of unfairness or stupidity. Seek out argument and disputation for their own sake; the grave will supply plenty of time for silence. Suspect your own motives, and all excuses. Do not live for others any more than you would expect others to live for you.”

Words worth thinking about; good advice to live by.

To be – or not to be – normal

“My wife could turn to me and she may say, ‘Why do you love me?’ And I can with all honesty look her in the eye and say, ‘Because our pheromones matched our olfactory receptors.” — Robin Ince

If we take biology out of the equation, why do we do the things we do?

Of course, if you totally remove biological responses, innate reactive and primal behaviours, physiology, and psychology, there very well may be nothing left.

If you believe in fate, or that we have souls, that there is a god or two or three, you may say that destiny, heart, purpose, or divinity wholly or in part answers the question.

The things we think may be thought out of our own free will, or they may simply be a series of chemical responses.

They may also be learned, and that’s what is perhaps the most interesting option of all. The most dangerous option: Learning to think a certain way without being consciously aware of the fact that we are learning, adopting, and executing certain behaviours based on certain passively constructed thoughts or ideas. This is the cousin of not being aware that we also have a choice in what we choose to think.

It’s called buying into a “normative society.”

None of us are born with a critically self-formed political affiliation. We may be born into conservative families, our early experiences may shape what we come to believe about politics, but all of this happens after birth. And for the most part, I think it’s safe to say most of us are aware that we are choosing to vote liberally over conservatively and vice versa, to like one politician over another, to choose between sides. Which party we choose over another is more or less an actively- and consciously- made decision. Sure, we may be manipulated, influenced, lied to, and our choice may not even be based on facts, figures, or anything of value. Nevertheless, we are aware of the act of choosing. But where did we learn that we have to choose between sides?

Where and when did we adopt and us-versus-them mentality? Why have we come to adopt the belief that life is lived in these phases of going to school, then starting your career, getting married, then having kids?

When did we come to associate being alone, single, and unmarried, especially later on in life, with being terribly lonely? Or weird?

Why do we buy into these overwhelmingly simple and classical theme of good versus evil? Why do some of us do things in the name of our country, or approve certain actions of our country, but dodge neighbours and disapprove of our kids behaving in a similar vein?

There are of course exceptions to all of these and they are by no means all-inclusive; people we know or have heard of or read about who defy these pre-set expectations of what is important, and of how to live in society. In some cases, there may be a lot of them. But a case can still be made that they are just that, exceptions. There are seven billion people in the world, and there can never be enough free-thinkers, innovators, and mould-breakers.

It may not necessarily be an entirely negative thing, buying into a normative society, and adhering to the norm. But like with any purchase, it serves well to be aware of the cost of such an action, and how much we’re paying.

To be – or not to be – opinionated

It’s like a reverse form of writer’s block.

Instead of spending so many minutes they amount to hours in front of a computer screen, waiting for brilliancy, I start with an often less-than-brilliant thought I’d like to share, and then proceed to draw a blank. The idea hasn’t disappeared. Rather, my eagerness to share my opinion is slowly replaced by worries over how I should say it, whether it is in fact my real opinion, whether I should think the subject through a little more before “enlightening” everyone with a stream of my nonsensical consciousness.

I’ve thought about this matter a lot, mostly because people I’ve spoken with sometimes get frustrated when I tell them that my opinion is to not have an opinion. What I mean when I say that, is my “opinion” is that none of the options they have provided me with are ones that I would choose to adopt as part of my own personal beliefs on how the world should operate. This generally doesn’t appease my counterpart, and the conversation descends into an argument over the validity of my response.

After wondering myself whether what I thought was being “open-minded” is actually quite narrow-minded, I’ve decided that it comes down to this: Whether it is “better” to have an opinion – or at least pick a starting point – that could be subject to change over the course of a life full of learning and experiences, or to acknowledge that you may not know everything, and that you are undecided?

Is it better, I guess, to be a part of the dialogue for the sake of being part of the conversation? For example, is it better for a Canadian to vote because we have been given the right to vote, and thus are entitled to voice our opinions on how we should be governed, even if that voter knows nothing about politics, governance, current affairs, or social issues? What if they know all there is to know, and don’t like any of the options?

Is it possible that, in not being able to pick a side because of uncertainty or indecisiveness or a lack of viable options, you become a part of a different conversation, one that is less about arguing the merits or pitfalls of one side or the other, and more about discussing all sides simultaneously in search of a new answer. Maybe it even becomes the search for a new question.

Another example: In arguing the pros and cons of capitalism versus communism, maybe it’s possible that in not siding with either, or a combination of the two, that we begin to ask ourselves the self-reflective questions we really should be asking ourselves. Questions like, ‘What is it that we need, now?’ instead of, ‘Which one wins?’ or perhaps ‘What has worked in the past?’

I read a book last week titled “The Evolution of the Doctrine and Practice of Humanitarian Intervention,” which, in a sentence, analyzed how United Nations’ and individual State actions have set precedents for where we legally, morally, and ethically draw the line between non-intervention and taking action. (There is of course no actual line, and the real issue being debated is that if States have a right to state sovereignty, and humans have a right to protected human rights, when do violations of the latter give the international community the right to “violate” the right of the former.)

It was a fascinating read (despite the fact that it was published in 1999). But there was one line in particular that stood out to me, and it didn’t really have much to do with anything. It was about how, in giving people the right to care for other people, or for the rights of other people and the rights of humanity, that you are also giving them the right not to care.

This logic is applicable to pretty much anything: In giving people the right to vote, you are giving them the right not to vote. If you have the right to speak, you also have the right not to speak. And when it comes to being constitutionally allowed (within reason) to express yourself and your opinions, you are also equally being given the right to choose not to do so. My question is whether, in consciously choosing not to do something, that makes it any less of a choice? If I don’t choose capitalism, and I don’t choose communism, and I don’t particularly agree with combining the two, does my decision mean I simply do not have an opinion?

Can’t not having an opinion be an opinion?

It’s not a matter of disinterest, in fact I could be just as knowledgeable on a given subject as anyone I’m talking to. When options A, B, and C don’t fit the bill, walking away would be disinterest. Choosing option D, however, is a choice, if for no other reason because it is a declination to choose any of the first three.

And anyone who has ever taken a Scantron test or watched “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” will know that “None of the Above” is, on occasion, the correct choice.

 

Quotes for living happily

I stumbled across a post out in the blogosphere titled “75 Happiness Quotes to Live By,” and thought I’d share. After all, it’s a Saturday, the sun is shining, it’s summertime: What’s not to be happy about?

Here were some of my favourites:

10. If you settle for just anything, you’ll never know what you’re truly worthy of.

25. In life, you get what you put in. Everything comes back around.

31. […] Compare yourself to who you were yesterday.

42. You are always free to do something that makes you smile.

53. Sometimes you need to be alone to reflect on life. Take time out to take care of yourself. You deserve it.

54. The good things we build end up building us.

56. The difference between who you are and who you want to be, is what you do.

63. When you find yourself cocooned in isolation and despair and cannot find your way out of the darkness, remember that this is similar to the place where caterpillars go to grow their wings.

71. Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.

73. Sometimes you just have to look back at your past and smile about how far you’ve come.

74. Just because it didn’t last forever, doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth your while.

 

Be happy.

Why I dropped microeconomics

I pride myself on being an intelligent and critical-thinking individual. And for what I may lack in common sense, I make up for as an avid autodidact (as my unnecessarily complex vernacular should well point out).

I’m book smart; I like to read. I may read slowly, but it is a proven fact that those who take on average a longer time to read one page have a higher information retention rate.

My academic career has been littered with A’s for Awards, Ambition, and Academic excellence, and I have successfully completed many upper-level post-secondary courses that grappled with ambiguous topics like ethics, subjectivity, and relativism.

All of this, and I couldn’t wrap my pretty little head around the basic concepts learned in a level-100 Introduction to Microeconomics course.

So I dropped it.

I was told I’d have no problem: That when demand is high and supply is low, prices rise. It’s logical, it’s straight-forward. Apart from supply and demand, and the basics of elasticity, it is also completely foreign to me.

There were other reasons for dropping this course: I had four others on the go, as well as a part-time job, volunteer work, and numerous weekly meetings. But I’d often wondered why I found it so challenging to understand such basic economic principles when I’d previously managed to work my way through much more complicated subjects.

Economics, as I recall, is in part the study of human behaviour as it relates to matters like the consumption of goods and services. Economics is also founded on the rationale that people will consistently act in their own best interest, which financially translates into what will save one the most money, or earn one the most money.

This second point, as a general rule, is probably right.

But I also think it’s wrong.

What was missing from the equations – and what the missing link was to my understanding – was the variable for human nature, that encompasses more aspects of our humanity than our tendency to pursue self-interests.

The truth is that people do not always act rationally. While we have the ability to think rationally, our judgements can not only be influenced by our emotions, but may be solely based on emotion. And when I use the term emotion, I extend that to include feelings of pride, aggression, entitlement, retribution, of what is just, of what is fair. It includes what we believe and feel and want, and what we want or don’t want for others.

There was a study done where a person stopped two people on the street. He offered the first person $50, and told that person they could divide it however they wished between the two of them, but that the second person was to decide whether they both kept the money, or whether the offer was rejected.

For the first person, the “nice” thing to do, or the “fair” thing to do, would be to divide the money 50-50, knowing the second person would most likely accept the offer, and they would both walk away $25 richer.

Now for the second person, the economically “rational” thing to do would be to accept any offer that earns them money. After all, they have no control over the divying-up, and regardless of what they get, it’s free money. This means that, again, “rationally,” if the first person split the cash $30-$20, the second person should take it. They should also take it if it’s divided $49-$1.

However, the study pointed out that there comes a point when some people decide that their pride is worth more than what is being offered and, out of spite for the other “greedier” person, reject the financial offer for the both of them. (I know that if I was offered a dollar while my counterpart tried to take $49, I would, out of principle (anger, pride, justice) screw him over.)

And thus, I would argue that like the idea behind supply and demand is to find an equilibrium between the two, the key to figuring out how to get to that equilibrium rests, to a certain extent, of finding that line where our emotions and feelings (real or believed) overtake our rational thinking.

Some people act in the interest of the greater good (a form of self-interest assuming you include yourself in the greater good), while others are driven by the bottom line. We have different ways of thinking logically, different criteria for what makes up a rational or irrational decision, different views on whether it is justice or fairness or equality or hard work that should prevail at the end of the day. It’s complicated enough on a person-to-person scale, let alone incorporating governments, politics, nationalism, patriotism, and history into the mix.

The point I am trying to make is this: While the structures and general rules microeconomics would have taught me are generally quite accurate, if all of its principles can get thrown to the wind because one person pissed another person off, then I would rather spend my time studying human nature.

A call from DC

Yesterday, I got a call from Washington, DC.

He – the voice on the other end of the phone – offered me some advice, a little guidance on how I might go about pursuing a career in foreign correspondence and conflict zone reporting.

We’ve never met. In fact, the circumstances leading to the call were a series of happy coincidences, married with a little persistence.

Several weeks ago I went to my weekly Monday-night meeting, where timing and location meant I happened to meet one of my colleague and mentors’ longtime friends. I shared my experiences living on a military base in Wainwright, and my ambitions of coupling travel with journalism on issues that I find matter. He himself had studied journalism in Paris, but ended up furthering his education in international politics and economics.

One of his best friends, however, continued on with journalism, traveled to conflict zones, war zones, and areas of devastation. He now works for the IMF.

After a virtual introduction, a couples of emails, and a emailed resume spell-checked half a dozen times, he agreed to speak with me. And by agreeing to speak with me, I mean he just decided to call. Which takes me to yesterday morning, half-way through a rushed breakfast before heading off to work, staring at my phone trying to figure out whether this call from DC, USA was an automated credit card spam call.

I answered. And about 10 minutes later, I went back to getting ready for work, having possibly made the contact of a lifetime: A professional, talented, and experienced potential sounding board who has lived the career I hope to pursue.

The capitol called yesterday, and along with it, a glimpse of what my future could be.